What happened under the mistletoe
by MarlleneMilton
Summary: Sherlock, John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade are having a Christmas party. Mycroft comes to talk business with Sherlock and then also some traditions are discussed. Please take into account that English is not my first language and I m NOT a professional writer. I don t own any of the characters. If you like it, I might write another chapter.


Mycroft was walking impatiently behind the couch, his pompous umbrella in his hand.

„Sherlock! It´s a very important meeting and I don´t need to remind you that it was you who helped to make it happen. It´s absolutely natural that you´re invited."

„And I´m simply refusing the invitation. Many people do that."

„They made it very clear that I bring you with me so they could thank you."

„Another reason not to come."

„Grow up already."

„It´s bad enough that John made me suffer through this dull evening and I have no intention of adding another stupid christmas party with your boring politicians to the list."

After saying this, Sherlock walks away to the kitchen obviously not willing to talk about the subject anymore. Mycroft only sighs wearily and wonders why he can´t have a normal brother, someone easier to put up with.

Everybody else in the room is watching the Holmes brothers silently. John and Moly are standing near the window, Mrs. Hudson is sitting on the couch drinking her already third glass of Sherry and Lestrade who just stepped from the kitchen, is leaning against the jamb of the door.

Mrs. Hudson wasn´t listening to the whole conversation. Her mind was occupied with her old friend who called her couple hours ago. But one part of it got through her thoughts and caught her attention.

„Oh Sherlock, how can you say such a thing. It is a lovely evening. It´s Christmas!"

„It´s a wonderful evening Mrs. Hudson. I´m sure Sherlock didn´t really mean it." Molly tried to comfort her but Mrs. Hudson kept talking as if she didn´t hear her at all.

„It´s such a nice tradition. People get together and they´re nice to each other. No murders should be allowed on Christmas." The last sentence earned little smiles on some of the faces.

„I´m with you there Mrs. Hudson." said Lestrade „But, tradition or no tradition, to the criminals it doesn´t make a difference."

„Speaking of traditions." added Mr. Hudson as Sherlock returned and stopped next to Lestrade, pointing somewhere above them.

A mistletoe hanged there.

John laughed: „I doubt Sherlock even knows what it means."

Lestrade shuffled a little.

„Mrs. Hudson, you should probably stop with the …" Sherry he meant to say , but was taken aback by Sherlock suddently invading his personal space. Before he could say or think anything, he felt Sherlock´s hand on his cheek and warm lips on his. He blinked couple times before closing his eyes completely. Without knowing it he was clutching Sherlock´s shirt and slightly responding to the kiss. It lasted only a few seconds when Sherlock stepped out of his personal space again.

„Now, it didn´t hurt, did it?" he said quietly as he was moving away slowly still watching him. Lestrade was speechless.

Everybody was looking at them in shock. Except Mycroft who only raised an eyebrow and then disappeared without saying a word.

Only Sherlock broke the silence again. „John, when you collect yourself, I´ll need more space in the fridge for the blood samples." After that he just walked away as if nothing unusual happened.

Lestrade was still standing in the same spot asking himself if it really happened. Molly then started babbling about some morgue stuff or at least it sounded like that to him. They moved then to usual Christmas topics and no one mentioned anything about what happened under the mistletoe.

Couple days after the party, Lestrade was lying restless, trying desperately to get some sleep. _What the hell is going on with me? _He couldn´t stop asking himself. But also, he couldn´t stop thinking about the kiss. He would wake up in the night feeling Sherlock´s soft lips, his hand on his jaw and the heat coming from his body as if he was lying righ next to him. _For God´s sake! Get a grip! _

He tried really hard not to think about it at work. He knew he was being ridiculous. For Sherlock it was probably just a way of proving John that he wasn´t so ignorant about traditions. Or it was like the New Year´s kisses when you just grab anyone who is next to you.

It meant nothing.

_Or did it?_ He was at a crime scene. Sherlock was leaning against a wall not far from him and was gazing at with such a look he doesn´t remember seeing before.


End file.
